


Tony's First Tantrum

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [8]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Comfort/Angst, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Temper Tantrums, Tony DiNozzo & Jethro Gibbs Father-Son Relationship, knives are not toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9994172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: Tony is grumpy, Gibbs is out of his depth, and no one is safe from the emotional turmoil of the Terrible Two's. Light angst and light fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JasonKemp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasonKemp/gifts).



> This one has been a long time coming, lemme tell you! This one's for JasonKemp who wanted to see more one-on-one with Tony and Papa Gibbs! Enjoy!

Gibbs should have honestly expected Tony to be in a mood when he got to Gibbs' place. DiNozzo had been grumbling all day, complaining about not getting enough sleep, and driving Viv up the wall. Gibbs wanted to be irritated, too, but he didn't do much in front of anyone else, resolving to fix the issue that night when he and Tony were alone. But the slammed door and the angry boy in the entry way assured Gibbs that tonight was going to be a night he was out of his depth. He took a deep breath for strength and pretended nothing was wrong, to see if Tony would calm down on his own. "Hey, kiddo. That was a quick ride over."

Tony glowered at Gibbs and yanked off his shoes. He put them next to the door and walked into the living room, arms crossed. He looked like he was calming down some, but was still pretty miffed. Gibbs glanced away and licked his lips; how was he supposed to deal with this? "Do you want to play with anything? I've got your GI Joe if you want to go on a mission?"

Gibbs got a shrug in return. What in the world did _that_  mean? "If that doesn't sound good, we could bring out those toy cars? Have a race around the coffee table?"

Tony perked up a bit and looked over at Gibbs. "And make 'splosions in the races?"

"As many explosions as you want, kiddo. Make it the A-Team if you want and if that'll bring your smile back," Gibbs assured.

Tony smiled a bit and pointed to the basement. "My toys?" he asked.

"Yeah, your toys are back in the basement again," Gibbs said.

Tony nodded and began to make his way down, before Gibbs stopped him. "Hang on, kiddo. Don't want you to get a splinter. I can get them and bring them up here to play with, sound good?"

"I guess..." Tony mumbled.

Gibbs nodded and practically ran down the stairs in the basement. Tony was angry one minute, despondent the next...the boy clearly hadn't had either a lot of sleep or food. And Gibbs just wanted to make sure he was happy for the rest of the night, so maybe they both could sleep easy. He rushed back up the stairs and walked into the living room, putting the cars on the table. He looked around. Tony wasn't in the room.

Gibbs' heart clenched. Had something happened while he was in the basement? He only was down there for forty-five seconds, maximum!

There were footsteps in the kitchen, and Gibbs hurried inside. His heart stopped when he found Tony. His heart leapt into overdrive when he saw the boy holding a knife. "Tony! Knife down! Now!" he ordered, walking over and snatching the handle from the boy's hands.

Tony appeared oblivious to the danger he had just put himself in. "I'm hungry!" the boy whined. "I need to open the box!"

Gibbs looked where Tony was pointing on the counter and found a box of fish sticks. He took a deep breath. "Tony, you are _not_  supposed to be handling knives. You could have gotten seriously hurt. It's not even dinner time yet!"

Tony was unfazed, and pointed at the box again. "I'm _hungry_ ," he insisted.

"Well, you'll have to wait until when I make dinner. You're not getting a treat after doing something I've told you a hundred times not to do," Gibbs said firmly.

Tony scowled. Gibbs felt more than a little irritation at the boy testing his boundaries in this way. But Gibbs needed to be calm when he made the rules clear and when he enforced them, so he pushed the irritation aside.

"I'm. _Hungry_ ," Tony insisted.

"I heard you the first time, kiddo, but you'll have to wait while I make something for dinner. If you want fish sticks, I can stick them in the oven, but you'll have to be patient."

"I'm hungry _now_ ," Tony pressed with a whine.

Gibbs worked his jaw. It was getting hard for the man to not do anything rash. "Tony, that is _not_  how you speak to authority. I told you that you would have to wait, just until the food cooked. I was going to make dinner as soon as you said you were getting hungry, but this disrespect will not be tolerated. You'll have to wait until I'm ready for dinner as well."

Tony scowled further and crossed his arms, stomping a foot. "I'm hungry _now_!" he exclaimed.

Gibbs was thrown off guard when Tony yelled--Tony _never_  yelled. DiNozzo, maybe, but Tony was always mild-mannered. His anger started to turn into concern. "Tony, what's wrong?"

Tony glowered at him and turned away.

Gibbs ran a hand over his face and sighed. His anger was still pulsing beneath the surface, looking for a reason to show itself. "Tony, kiddo, come on. Talk to me nicely."

Tony looked over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at Gibbs.

Gibbs blinked in shock at Tony's action. As the surprise wore off, making anger in its wake, Gibbs gently but firmly grabbed Tony's shoulder. "That's enough, kiddo."

Tony looked at him in surprise. "Let go!"

"You have been very disrespectful today, Tony, and you need to know that's not okay," Gibbs said, leading Tony forcibly out of the room and to a corner of the living room. "So you will be staying in the corner for 15 minutes."

"No!" Tony protested, writhing in Gibbs' grasp. "No!"

"The time won't count if you don't sit quietly," Gibbs continued, unfazed. "And when you are done with your corner time we will talk about your actions."

Tony looked at Gibbs with betrayal on his face. Gibbs felt bad for the kid, but stood his ground. Tony swung one of his arms back and moved it forward with as much force as he could muster, hitting Gibbs squarely in the chest. It didn't hurt, but Gibbs let go of Tony in shock. The boy kept hitting him without letting up, and Gibbs somehow managed to get his arms to work to the point where he could block Tony from hitting him any more. He forced Tony into the corner, and tried to get his mouth to work properly. "Papa needs to go to the bathroom, kiddo. If I find out you moved from the corner when I'm gone, your time will start over, and you'll have to sit there for half an hour."

Doing his best to ignore Tony's screaming wails, Gibbs walked out of the room quickly making his way to the bathroom, closing and locking the door. He leaned against the wood and fought the urge to punch the mirror hanging on the wall. He felt like a total failure. What had he done to get Tony to react to him so violently? Why was his boy hitting him, and more importantly why was he acting like this in the first place? Something was obviously wrong, and Gibbs didn't catch it in time to fix it. Now his boy was paying the price. He slammed his palm against the door and muttered a few choice swears. Why was fighting in Desert Storm seemingly easier than raising a 30-something toddler? The only explanation he could come up with was that he had somehow failed at being a proper caretaker for Tony.

But his boy needed him now more than ever if he screwed up, so Gibbs unlocked the door and walked out, finding Tony still screaming in the corner, and crying as well. Gibbs felt his heart twist in his chest. This was _his_  fault. No one else's. _His_. And he was torn between scooping Tony up and comforting him, or making sure he learned his lesson. "I won't start counting the time until you calm down, baby boy," Gibbs said softly.

Tony glowered at Gibbs from the corner but his crying was tapering off into hiccups. Gibbs sat down on the couch and checked the time from the clock in the kitchen he had hung in line of sight of his spot. When 15 minutes was over, Gibbs calmly walked over to the corner, scooped Tony up, and walked back to the couch, rubbing circles on the boy's back. "Tony..." Gibbs started. "Did I do anything wrong to make you act out like this?"

Tony looked up at Gibbs like he was crazy. "No!" he said in a scandalized tone. "Papa doesn't do bad things to Tony! Ever!"

"Are you sure?" Gibbs asked. "When you hit me...I just thought..."

Tony looked down, ashamed. "I wan-ed to be away from Papa more than I wan-ed to make sure Papa felt okay. So I hit. I'm sorry."

"Why did you want to be away from me?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn' wanna sit in the corner," Tony mumbled.

"But it wasn't because you thought I would hurt you or anything, right? You know that I never want to hurt you?"

"I didn' think Papa would hurt me," Tony said, looking at anywhere but Gibbs. "I didn' wanna be in the corner, so I did what I thought I hadta do to stop Papa. But it didn' work. I don' hate you."

Gibbs felt a weight leave his shoulders. "So you were just worked up? It's okay if the answer is yes, I get worked up too sometimes. But if I did something wrong, I need to know."

"Papa's fine," Tony said, finally looking up at Gibbs again and patting him on the cheek. "Tony's bad."

"You're not bad. I could have handled your tantrum better," Gibbs said. "I should have figured out beforehand what was wrong. Being in the corner might not have been the best thing for you, and I would hate to make things worse."

"You could not punish me at all?" Tony proposed.

Gibbs leveled him with a _really?_  look. "You needed to know what you did was wrong, Tony. That still stands, and I stand by my decision for punishment. _What_  punishment is what I worry about. I never want to spank you, but is corner time okay? It doesn't make you sad or scared or mad?"

Tony shook his head. "Just bored."

"Then it's doing its job," Gibbs chuckled. "I'm sorry about snapping at you before, baby boy. I was worried you would hurt yourself with the knife, and spoke sharply."

"Sorry I used the knife when you told me not to," Tony said. "I forgot to eat somethin' big for lunch."

"You could have just said so," Gibbs said, carding his fingers in Tony's hair. "If you play quietly, Papa can have dinner ready in another 15 minutes. 20 at most."

Tony questioned that line of thought immediately. "Papa said dinner wouldn't be ready until he was ready to make it?"

"I said you'd have to wait until I was ready for dinner, not until I was ready to make it. And all that means is a reasonable hour, rather than 2 in the afternoon. I wouldn't deny you food," Gibbs explained. "If it were that bad, I would give you a granola bar or a couple handfuls of cereal for a snack."

"Yucky," Tony said, sticking out his tongue.

"I did say I wouldn't be giving you a treat," Gibbs chuckled. "If you let me get up, I'll start making dinner?"

"Mm-hm," Tony said, crawling off Gibbs' lap. "Sorry for the tantrum."

"Just try to avoid it in the future, and we'll be okay, kiddo," Gibbs assured. "Sometimes you can't help being upset. Just don't make it a regular thing."

Tony nodded seriously.

Gibbs smiled. "In that case, let me get the fish sticks started."


End file.
